Too Late
by Chounette
Summary: They can't help the way they feel, and they keep denying it, until it's too late. HarryCedric. [One shot]


**Title:** Too Late  
**Author:** Marie/Chounette   
**Pairing:** Cedric/Harry  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** 3,205  
**Disclaimer:** _Harry Potter_ belongs to J.K. Rowling. I only own the plot.  
**Notes:** Written for user superkupos on LiveJournal for the Cedric/Harry Valentine's Day Ficathon.  
**Prompt:** A snowglobe and someone breathing on glass and drawing in it with their finger.  
**Warning(s):** Slash.  
**Spoilers:** _Goblet of Fire_, maybe the beginning of _Order Of the Phoenix_.  
**Summary:** They can't help the way they feel, and they keep denying it, until it's too late.

* * *

Cold winter air drifted in through a badly patched crack in the window, but Harry did not care. He shivered in his thin cotton pajamas, but never acknowledged that a simple wave of his wand and a spell could change the situation.

Dawn was approaching fast, the dark sky turning to light grey – it would be a dull day, the perfect weather to match Harry's mood. A heavy mist floated over the Hogwarts grounds, but Harry (more out of habit than good vision) could still make out the large forms of the stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch.

The fiasco that had been the Yule Ball had kept the young Gryffindor awake for the remainder of the night after he and Ron reached their dormitory, which explained why he wasn't currently snoring away in his bed like his four friends were doing.

In fact, it wasn't exactly the memory of the previous evening, but something that happened just after, that was nagging him. Words repeated themselves in his head, a face swimming in and out of focus in his mind: dark hair, grey eyes, sharp cheekbones and a confident smile. Cedric Diggory.

_"Take a bath, and – er – take the egg with you, and – er – just mull things over in the hot water. It'll help you think... trust me."_

Yeah, all right, he was just trying to repay him for the tip about the dragons. But the way Cedric had said it, it sounded almost... inviting.

"As if he was asking me to join him for a bath or something," Harry mused softly.

But then a loud snore from Ron startled him, and he quickly shoved the thought away.

* * *

Cedric could kill himself right now. He couldn't believe what he had done.

_You idiot! You were supposed to tip him off, not _flirt _with him!_ For to Cedric, that was well what he had done: flirt shamelessly with a 14-year-old boy on the pretense of helping him out.

The grey-eyed youth suppressed a groan and buried his head under his pillow. _What have I done?_ He couldn't possibly look Harry in the face ever again...

_Way to go, Diggory._

* * *

After a near run-in with Filch and Snape, Harry rushed back to Gryffindor Tower. When he finally reached the common-room and stumbled through the portrait hole, he collapsed into a plushy chair, out of breath, and pushed a strand of wet hair out of his eyes, removing his Invisibility Cloak. A dull ache tugged at his heart as he stared off into the still lit fireplace.

_Come on, Potter, get a grip. You couldn't possibly think that he would magically appear out of thin air and sweep you off your feet! _As soon as he thought that, he felt like doing a Dobby and bang his head against a wall, ashamed he could have such thoughts.

In the days that followed the Yule Ball, Harry found himself more and more drawn to the older Hufflepuff Champion, even sometimes going out of his way just to have a glimpse of dark blonde hair or grey eyes. _I'm not gay_, he continuously told himself, despite the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he laid eyes on the handsome face. And it didn't help, either, that Cedric often caught his eye and smiled, adding to the increasing uneasiness he felt.

"God." Heaving a deep, loud sigh, Harry seized his golden egg (_It's all because of this damn thing that this conversation happened in the first place!_) and made to throw it as far as he could before deciding against it, reasoning that it would most likely split open and awake the whole tower with its wails. Glaring at the offending object for a while, he finally dropped it in the armchair beside him, snatched his Invisibility Cloak up and started across the room towards the staircase leading to the boys' dorms.

* * *

_You're a pervert, Cedric, you know that?_

Sitting on his bed, the curtains drawn around him and his chin resting on his bent knees, Cedric contemplated never leaving his dorm again. So screw his dad and his plans of eternal fame, graduating with honors, and getting a great, high-ranked Ministry job.

While leaving the Great Hall after dinner that night, Cedric had overheard Harry telling his friend Weasley about "going to check out that egg lead, see if I can actually get something out of it". The rest of the conversation was tuned out both by the fact that he was then too far away from them to hear, and also because of that bloody perverted idea that planted itself into his brain and settled there. 

_He didn't know what possessed to do it, but at a quarter past midnight, Cedric snuck out of the Hufflepuff quarters and carefully made his way to the Prefects' bathroom. Muttering the password, he pushed the door open very quickly; and slipped in, hiding in the shadows._

Oh, Harry was there all right; Cedric noticed the clothes lying on the ground right away. The young Gryffindor appeared to be underwater, but soon resurfaced, and Cedric pressed himself up against the wall. After a minute or two, as though driven by an unknown, invisible force, he peered around at the pool-sized bath.

The sight that greeted him left him breathless. Clear water running down soft-looking, pale skin, dripping from raven locks...

Cedric's hands curled into fists, nails digging into his skin, his eyes squeezing shut, biting his lower lip so hard that he drew blood and could taste it. He mustn't go there. He couldn't go there. He should have just peeked into the room and left as soon as it was confirmed that Harry had indeed followed his advice of taking a bath with the egg, although from what he'd seen the other champion had received help from Moaning Myrtle, that annoying ghost that kept flooding the girls' bathroom on the first floor...

_But NO, I had to stay! _But he couldn't help it, really, it was like someone had jinxed him, keeping his feet glued to the floor and his eyes fixed on the bath.

* * *

June 23rd. The third and last task was tomorrow. Then it would be all over.

Harry didn't care if he won or not; he just wanted it all to end. Because soon after that he'd be back on the Hogwarts Express, headed back to London, and at least while he'd be busy staying out of the Dursleys' way, he would forget about everything that had happened.

_I've got to forget about him. I've got to forget about _it

"Harry?" He turned away from the dying common room fire to see Ron standing at the bottom of the staircase. The red-haired boy was looking concerned. "You should come to bed. You need a good night's sleep, with the last task being tomorrow and all."

"Yeah, fine, I'm coming." His glance returned to the fire, staring into the flames unblinkingly until his eyes watered and his vision blurred. With a sigh, he stood up and headed up to bed, hoping that he would manage to fall asleep.

* * *

"Want to play another round?" Justin Finch-Fletchley gathered the cards and looked hopefully at his opponent.

This was the opportunity Cedric had been waiting for all night. Glancing at the clock and faking a yawn, he stood up. "Don't think so. I think I'm going to head up to bed; I'd like to get a good rest before tomorrow."

Justin nodded, understanding. "All right. Good night."

Giving a small smile, the Hufflepuff Champion headed for his dorm, responding to every "Good night, Cedric!" sent his way as he passed.

Reaching the quiet and peace of his dormitory, he closed the door and leaned against it, reveling in the calm before walking across the room to his bed. His trunk was open beside his bed, the contents spilling out; he had gone through it earlier that day, looking for his copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ that Ernie MacMillan wanted to borrow, but was in a hurry with class starting a mere ten minutes later, so he hadn't bothered putting everything back in place afterwards.

With a sigh, he kneeled beside the large trunk and proceeded into tidying it up, folding clothes and piling books. Halfway through the mess, he came across a folded piece of parchment. Frowning, he stared at it; he couldn't remember what it was... Unfolding it, he skimmed through the first few lines, and instantly wished he hadn't.

It was a letter, a letter he wrote to a certain raven-haired Gryffindor on a sleepless night when honestly, his brain went out for a walk and took its sweet time coming back.

_Bloody hell, this looks like something a crushing schoolgirl would write..._ But then again it didn't because a crushing schoolgirl wouldn't be so coherently reflecting...

Shaking his head, Cedric folded the parchment again and held his wand over it, intent on setting it on fire. At the last minute, though, he changed his mind and reached into his trunk, pulling out a medium-sized box containing a large range of items, including Quidditch doodles he'd drawn during boring History of Magic classes, various letters from his parents, and the piece of paper on which he'd written his name and that the Goblet of Fire had spat out on Halloween. That moment seemed so far away now...

Making up his mind, Cedric opened the box and dropped the letter in it.

* * *

_"That's not how it's supposed to work."_

"I would've gone down in the first task if you hadn't told me what was coming."

"Just take the Cup!"

"No."

"We'll take it at the same time."

"Come here."

"One – two – three -"

* * *

The roaring of the crowd... the screams... the tears...

_The pain..._

As he clutched Cedric's body and sobbed and shouted and struggled against the hands trying to pry him away, Harry finally allowed the truth to sink in.

He loved Cedric Diggory.

And his heart had just been shattered into a million pieces.

* * *

The dormitory was dark and cold when Mrs. Diggory pushed the door open. The two remaining seventh-year boys hadn't slept in there since the third task.

Professor Sprout had offered to gather Cedric's belongings, but she had politely declined, saying that she wanted to do it herself, and had let herself be escorted to the Hufflepuff common room by the Head of house.

Closing the door behind her, Mrs. Diggory crossed the room to her son's bed. Sinking onto the soft mattress, she stifled a sob. Tomorrow she would be burying her only child...

When, moments later, she pulled herself back together, she took deep breath and glanced around the bed, taking in the small mess. She stood up, putting down her son's pillow that she'd grabbed sometime during her breakdown. She quickly picked up the few clothes strewn across the floor, folding them before stepping up to the trunk to put them away.

As she pushed items to the sides to make room for the Hogwarts uniforms that wouldn't be needed anymore, she knocked over a small box that had been, until then, sitting precariously on top of a pile of books. The contents spilled all over the floor and, abandoning the clothes, Mrs. Diggory went after them.

Pictures, letters, lucky charms... the now damned piece of parchment that had came out of the Goblet of Fire... a snow globe containing a tiny replica of Hogwarts and its grounds, a Christmas gift from his aunt when he was a first-year...

A folded piece of parchment, slightly crinkled from many reads and its corners worn, was stuck under the snow globe. Putting the object back into the box, Mrs. Diggory was left staring at the parchment, curiosity eating at her. How much of an importance did this thing have for Cedric to have read and re-read it so many times? Carefully she picked it up and unfolded it, smoothing the corners down.

There it was. The proof that confirmed the suspicions that she'd had for a while...

_Harry,_

After reading this (if I ever have the guts to send it to you), you might think I'm sick, twisted and seriously disgusting, but the only thing I want is for you to read it from the beginning to the end...

* * *

It was July already.

Harry sat in his bedroom at number 4, Privet Drive, indulging in his latest favorite hobby: moodily staring out the window, mourning and holding onto what ifs.

Cedric died almost a month ago. By his – _Harry's_ – fault.

And he was wondering... if only he hadn't played the hero once again and just taken the Cup, Cedric would still be alive. If he had taken the Cup to go straight back and forced Cedric to do the same, instead of just saying it, maybe they both would have escaped Lord Voldemort's wrath.

And Cedric would still be alive...

And if he had admitted to himself what he had been denying, and if then he'd just told Cedric how he felt... would things have been different?

Did Cedric even feel the same way? All the moments where he seemed to be flirting... was he really?

Whimpering softly and wrapping his arms around himself, Harry leaned his head against the cool glass of the window. Rooms reflected the moods of their inhabitants, he thought idly as he stared down into the Dursleys' garden. While the rest of the town (and even the rest of the house) suffered from a terrible drought, Harry's room was dark, cold and gloomy, and had been this way since he set foot in it, after the end of term.

He missed Hogwarts. He missed Ron and Hermione; neither of them had given him much news, only sending letters here and there saying they couldn"t write much in case their owls were intercepted and everything led him to believe that they were in the same place – probably The Burrow.

He missed Cedric. He missed the tip offs for upcoming tasks, he missed going out of his way just to catch a glimpse of him... and he hated the fact that he wouldn't ever see him again. If only he'd told him how he felt... no matter what Cedric would have thought of it (a fourteen-year-old boy having feelings for him, the only ray of fame to reach Hufflepuff in many, many years!), at least he would have known.

But Harry couldn't turn back time... he couldn't change anything. He would have to deal with it eventually... even though he didn't want to. He wanted to forget all about this terrible year, but he knew he wouldn't be able to.

With a small jolt of surprise, Harry realized that night had fallen. His breathing had fogged the window in some places; the light coming from the street lamps outside barely came through. Driven by an invisible force, his fingers had run over the mist as his thoughts wandered; he now stared at a eclectic group of small drawings: a snitch, a dragon (well, he figured it was a dragon), a broom, a Time-Turner...

And, very obvious in the middle of all this, a single name: Cedric.

Harry made to erase it all with a swipe of his hand, but changed his mind at the last minute. Aunt Petunia would freak if she saw this (if she ever had the courage to wander into the war zone that was his room), but in all honesty, he didn't care.

A loud hoot startled him and, shocked, he saw an owl land on his window sill. He quickly opened the window to usher the bird in. Maybe it was Ron or Hermione or even Sirius sending forth news...

But he soon found he couldn't recognize the owl. Untying the envelope held out to him, he tore it open. Two pieces of parchment fell into his lap: one small and smooth, while the other was longer, and looked older, worn.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry picked up the smallest note. The feminine handwriting was unfamiliar, and there was no signature.

_Harry, I thought you had the right to see this._

Now thoroughly puzzled, he took the worn parchment and unfolded it. He took in the first few lines, his eyes widening as he read further and further. Finally the letter slipped from his hands and a single tear rolled down his cheek as he sat there, stunned.

_Harry,_

After reading this (if I ever have the guts to send it to you), you might think I'm sick, twisted and seriously disgusting, but the only thing I want is for you to read it from the beginning to the end.

I'm sorry if I start to ramble, or if I get sidetracked... I've never really written such a thing before. I'm kind of afraid to look like a schoolgirl after this, but I decided not to censor myself, so here goes nothing.

I apologize if I seemed to come onto you after the Yule Ball, when I told you about the Prefects' bathroom.

No, actually I'm not. And I'm not supposed to censor anything, right? I'm not sorry. I didn't really mean to sound flirty or anything, but I guess unconsciously I really did want to hit on you. So I guess that if it looked like I was inviting you to take a bath with me or something... well, I was.

Okay, maybe you won't like this next part. But tonight I decided to come clean, so here goes: the night you did go to the Prefects' bathroom, I was there. I snuck in a while after you went in. And I watched you every move.

God, you must think I'm the world's greatest pervert by now.

But the truth is... I'm really attracted to you, Harry. And it goes further than attraction... I think I... have feelings for you. Romantic feelings.

Bloody hell, I think I might even be in love with you. This probably seems weird because we're not exactly close friends...

And when I think of all the things I want to do to you...

I feel like a sick, twisted guy, now, for having such feelings for a young boy like you. Because whether you agree or not, Harry, that's what you are – young. I'm of legal age in our world; you're only 14.

Yes, you may hate me now. You can destroy this letter; you can keep it, whatever you want. You can choose to forget I ever sent it; I'll do the same.

And now, maybe this will seem too corny (and even out of place considering all the things I've just written), but it is the fourteenth of February after all, so... happy Valentine's Day, Harry. I know it's not some nice poem about how lovely your eyes are, or even a real valentine, and I'm sure this is not something you ever expected to receive.

I just wanted to let you know.

Cedric.

And if he had admitted to himself what he had been denying, and if then he'd just told Cedric how he felt... would things have been different?

He had just received his answer, and now wished he hadn't even wondered in the first place.


End file.
